Chapter Twenty-Nine
Damion
The Battery Park neighborhood where my meetings take place is primarily residential high-rises overlooking the Hudson River framed by clusters of shops, buildings, and restaurants. All of which line a walkway that stretches for miles, and the view of the Statue of Liberty disappoints in its distinct but unimpressively small form.
Smith’s our driver today, and he pulls us to a stop in front of a sidewalk on the North side of the park, and per Blake’s briefing on the ride over, a half dozen of Blake’s men are undercover and waiting on me. Caleb, I’m informed, is already sitting outside the restaurant, sipping his coffee, and appearing unconcerned about watchful eyes.
I exit the vehicle, with Joey doing the same. “I’m the familiar face, flanking you,” he informs me. “You won’t know I’m there though. Promise.”
Dressed in jeans, boots, and a leather jacket, he’s ready to blend with the many pedestrians already out and about despite the early hour and I’m all too happy to have him along for the ride, or walk, in this case. My father didn’t destroy me yesterday by going after Alana. I wouldn’t put it past him to decide to kill me off.
I start walking, tracking a path between buildings and the concrete dividing us from the ocean. It’s open here, no shelter from the blustery wind crashing bombastic waves against the walls. What was it they said in Game of Thrones ? Winter is coming. Winter is here. I know it. Alana knows it. It’s time my father knows, too.
I cut left and travel the edge of a building housing a Starbucks, with customers lined outside the door. The restaurant that is my destination is next door, and as I near, I spy Caleb sitting at a table in a far corner of the patio, near a wall. He’s not dressed for work, sporting an outfit that could have come from Joey’s closet—jeans, boots, a leather jacket. I claim the seat in front of him, and as usual, the hard lines of his face chiseled into a stone. He’s a killer who takes his job seriously—no time for niceties.
Working against that premise, he slides a cup of coffee in front of me.
“Is it poisoned?” I ask.
“Why would I poison you, Damion? I warned you Alana was in danger.”
“Why? And don’t tell me you like me, because you don’t like anyone.”
He eases back in his chair. “Hmmm, well, there’s a woman. Isn’t there always?”
“What does that mean?”
“A long time ago, I fell in love with a woman I was supposed to kill. I was willing to walk away from the money for her. I did walk away.” He waves off the topic. “It didn’t work out. She’s dead anyway. I saw you try to do the same with Alana, but your father just won’t leave her and her family the fuck alone.” He sips his coffee. “Though her mother’s a bitch and in love with your father, I think the two of them might be made for each other. But if he’s dead, she’ll fall back into line.”
“I’m not asking you to kill him.”
“You don’t have to ask. I’m ready to retire from your father’s bullshit, and he is never going to let me walk away. He’s aligned with those Russian bastards, and he’ll have them hunt me down before he’ll see me walk away as a liability. What I’m telling you is I’m done with him. Consider your problem solved. I’ll be prompt for both our sanity.” He pushes to his feet and pauses to add, “You’re a better man than him. Stay that way.” With that, he walks away.
Holy fuck. Caleb plans to kill my father.
I sit there and allow that to sink in, and I’m not sure if I should be celebrating or watching my back. This could have been a setup by my father. Now is not the time to decide this problem is over. It’s not.